


see you on the other side

by Beans (provetheworst)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, Black Eagles Sylvain, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, M/M, No Major Character Death, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provetheworst/pseuds/Beans
Summary: "I've got a better idea," Sylvain says, which he absolutely does not. He has no idea what he's going to say. Felix scowls at him, so he needs to come up with something. "Let's go to the Goddess Tower.""Fuck off. What other promise could you possibly want to make?" Felix asks, his stance relaxing finally, lowering his weapon. He takes a few halting steps Sylvain's direction, then stops as if he doesn't know why he started moving to begin with. "Besides, how many girls have you been up there with tonight already?""Zero. None. Not a one," Sylvain says, which is the absolute truth. Felix rolls his eyes, disbelieving. "I mean it!""Whatever," Felix says. He looks down at his feet. "If you have something to say to me, just say it here."-Or: Sylvain and Felix end up on opposite sides of the war.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 10
Kudos: 187





	see you on the other side

"Yo, guess who's joining the Black Eagles?" Sylvain asks, jabbing his thumbs toward his chest.

Felix stares at him in disbelief, then shakes his head and scoffs. Of course Sylvain would join them. The Professor is a woman, not much older than Sylvain, and Sylvain is extremely predictable.

"At last," Felix says after a moment of consideration. A traitorous part of him wants to say, _of course you're abandoning me_ , but he's not ready to show that particular weakness. "I was wondering when you'd finally get out of my hair."

"But it's such nice hair," Sylvain says, ruffling it and nearly destroying Felix's bun in the process. Felix ducks out from under his touch, scowling, and tries to straighten his hair again. "Real soft."

"Whatever."

"Look, it's just for a year," Sylvain says. "We can still get lunch together and everything."

"Hm." Giving up on straightening his hair, Felix lets it down entirely so he can gather it back up again. He doesn't dignify Sylvain with any further response while he redoes his bun.

"Attaboy," Sylvain says, and this time is respectful enough to clap Felix on the shoulder instead of destroying his hair a second time. Felix can respect that level of courtesy. "No more passing notes in class, I guess. Try not to miss me too much."

"I won't."

-

Sylvain has probably danced with half the school by now. Dimitri was fun; Sylvain dipped him and the prince had no idea what to do, and if that wasn't the best shit he's experienced all week - well. 

Most of his newish class has danced with him at least once now, too, except Bernadetta. He tried to ask Bernie to dance, but she got so scared that he ended up talking about her stories instead, and then eventually let himself get dragged off by a girl he might have dated once.

The problem is, mostly, that he can't find Felix. Felix has never been one for parties, but Sylvain wants to see him. They don't spend enough time together anymore now that they're in different classes; he thinks Felix resents him a bit. Not that Sylvain can blame him. Sylvain's the asshole who hasn't even tried to tell the professor to recruit him. Doing that would be too selfish by half, more for his own good than Felix's, and Sylvain's self aware enough to know better.

It's just - nice, being in the Black Eagles. They don't know him as well and it's easier to ignore his past and his background and just relax and study and go out with cute girls. Edelgard scolds him, and gets pretty mad about his behavior, but it's different than the years of disappointment behind Ingrid's or Dimitri's frustration with him. (Also, he got to offer to help Edelgard pick up girls, and he's pretty sure switching houses was worth it for that alone.)

Sylvain heads outside, figuring maybe he'll find Felix lurking somewhere in the garden, then realizes he needs to go to the training grounds. Obviously.

Of course Felix is at the training grounds, and of course he's doing elaborate footwork that looks more like dancing than fighting. He won the White Heron Cup, after all, and it's influenced his fighting style recently. Sylvain still pays attention when he gets the chance.

Sylvain probably should have been disappointed his own house lost, but getting to see Felix so grumpy and embarrassed about the competition made it all worth it.

Felix doesn't notice him, and Sylvain leans against the wall watching him for entirely too long.

"You almost tripped over yourself there," Sylvain points out after an awkward turn. "You're gonna want to widen your stance a bit if you're going to do that in a fight."

Felix lets out a growl, whipping around to face him, sword extended. Even from halfway across the training grounds, far out of reach, it's intimidating. "How long were you going to stare at me without saying anything?"

Sylvain shows his teeth in a lopsided grin. "I don't know, rest of the night?"

"Fight me or get back to the dance."

"I've got a better idea," Sylvain says, which he absolutely does not. He has no idea what he's going to say. Felix scowls at him, so he needs to come up with something. "Let's go to the Goddess Tower."

"Fuck off. What other promise could you possibly want to make?" Felix asks, his stance relaxing finally, lowering his weapon. He takes a few halting steps Sylvain's direction, then stops as if he doesn't know why he started moving to begin with. "Besides, how many girls have you been up there with tonight already?"

"Zero. None. Not a one," Sylvain says, which is the absolute truth. Felix rolls his eyes, disbelieving. "I mean it!"

"Whatever," Felix says. He looks down at his feet. "If you have something to say to me, just say it here."

Sylvain has about three witty lines he thinks up and immediately discards, in favor of heading to the weapons rack to grab a training lance. Finding a good one takes a while; all the weapons on offer need a little more sanding if they're to be handled bare-handed. It's Sylvain's fault for coming here dressed in his outfit for the ball instead of with armor and gloves on, he guesses. Still, he eventually decides on one he figures won't give him too many splinters, and turns to face Felix again. "Fine, no Goddess Tower. You're no fun."

"Oh, I'll show you fun," Felix says. That smirk of his is too much for Sylvain to deal with. "I'll destroy you."

"Great." Sylvain laughs and settles into a ready stance. This isn't how he planned for the night to go, but Felix seems in high spirits and Sylvain's in a mood to humor him.

He only means to go for one round, maybe, then get back to the dance. There are plenty of girls he hasn't danced with, and he's sure he could wrangle one of them into going up to the tower with him. But he's having fun, and can never figure out the right moment to leave, so he ends up staying for entirely too long. The monastery's bells ring on two separate occasions before they're finally done.

"All right, all right," he finally says; Felix has him on his back foot, and there's nowhere left for him to go. He puts his arms out dramatically, dropping the spear. "I surrender."

"Ah, you won't fight until your final breath?" Felix asks, closing in. Sylvain takes a step back, then another. Felix has him against a literal wall now, wooden training sword a hair's breadth from his neck. "What if your opponent shows no mercy? What then?"

"What then?" Sylvain narrows his eyes. He could say just about anything, here. Felix is close enough that he could - no. He doesn't think about that. Instead, he reaches out to brush Felix's bangs out of his eyes, slow and deliberate. Felix freezes, and Sylvain kicks a leg out, sweeping Felix's legs out from under him. Felix falls hard onto his back, and Sylvain stands over him and presses a foot against his chest.

Felix's sword has gone clattering off just out of reach. Sylvain grins down at him. "Then I'll have to find another way out if I don't want to die."

Sylvain steps back and offers a hand to help Felix up. Felix waves him off, getting up just fine on his own.

"It's late," Felix says, finally. In the distance, just barely through the walls of the training grounds, they can still hear the sounds of the ball and the strains of the music. "The ball has to end eventually. You should get back if you're going to find a girl to drag to that stupid tower in time."

"Nah," Sylvain says, wiping some sweat off his forehead. "You tired me out. I'm all sweaty and gross now; no one's gonna want to make any big romantic declarations with me now."

"Hn."

"Yeah, yeah, as if they'd ever." Sylvain waves a hand dismissively. "You don't have to say it."

Felix's mouth twitches upward, just barely. "I know. That's why I didn't."

Sylvain laughs, briefly delighted to see Felix smile again, then shakes his head. "Oh, Felix. Felix, Felix, Felix. Felix Hugo Fraldarius."

"Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot," Felix echoes, mockingly, in vague imitation of Sylvain.

Pacing back and forth, Sylvain puts his arms behind his head and peers skyward as if the stars will answer his question. "What are we ever gonna do with you, huh? You sure you don't want to join the Professor's class?"

"You can't just call her the Professor," Felix says, resigned. "There are other professors here."

"Everybody knows who you mean when you say it, though," Sylvain points out, helpfully.

"The year is almost over," Felix says. "I don't want to have to get used to calling anyone besides Hanneman 'the Professor.'"

Sylvain snorts. "Fine, fine, fair enough, I guess. Just thought you'd like learning from a better sword fighter."

Felix gets their weapons put away, and makes sure things are in order; he's very fastidious about the tidiness and sanctity of the training grounds, as deferent to this place as Marianne is to the cathedral. "And get stuck in a class with you again?"

"You wound me."

"You always find a way to get me back," Felix says, shrugging and pushing open the door. The light from the moon makes it look like he's glowing around the edges; the blue of his hair, touched by silver light, reminds Sylvain of the sea at night. After all that time training, his posture is loose and as close to relaxed as Felix gets these days. His expression shifts to a slight scowl, and Sylvain nearly trips over himself to actually follow him instead of leaving Felix holding the door forever. 

"Sorry, sorry," Sylvain says, before Felix can chastise him. "All that sparring wore me out."

"Yeah, right," Felix says.

"Fine, you got me. I was thinking about whether or not I can get the professor to come up to the tower with me. Bet she wants a break from everybody begging her to dance."

"If she hasn't taken one already." Felix shakes his head. "She can take care of herself. I don't care what you do either way."

"Uh-huh." Sylvain takes in a deep breath, enjoying the cool night air. "Say, Felix. Award-winning dancer Felix. You wanna dance?"

Felix's lip curls derisively, but he says, "I thought you didn't want to dance anymore because of how sweaty you were from training. If I say yes, will it get you to leave me alone?"

"Sure," Sylvain says, entirely too eager. "Sure, for as long as you want."

-

Edelgard starts a war, and Sylvain follows her into it.

He's not sure he will, at first; the holy tomb is a chaotic mess and it would be a good excuse to turn tail and run, but Sylvain is tired of running, and he knows Edelgard and Hubert and the Professor just well enough by now that he's willing to stick this one out. 

It'll piss off his dad, too, which is a nice bonus. Might not help with the inheritance, though. He'll figure something out. No one else can even try to inherit right now, as things stand, and his mother's past childbearing age by now without another perfect little Crest baby to try again with. He's already got the Lance of Ruin. They can't do much to him now.

Still - knowing he's going to follow her and actually waiting around in a barebones encampment waiting for the Adrestian army to reinforce them, preparing for an assault on the school he just spent a year at, is something else. He paces around the space restlessly, briefly trying to flirt with Dorothea before realizing neither of them's in the mood, and goes to just wearing a hole in the floor walking back and forth.

"Yo, Sylvain." Caspar's greeting makes him jump, then laugh at himself for it.

"Hey, Cas, what's happening?"

"This is pretty messed up, huh?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"Are you gonna - are you sticking with us?" Caspar has his arms folded tightly, hands stuck in his armpits, and one foot tapping wildly. "You're from Faerghus, yeah?"

"Yeah. It's - I don't know." Sylvain shakes his head. "Dimitri's going to kill me. Hell, Felix is going to kill me. Ingrid. All of them. They're not gonna get it."

"That's rough," Caspar says. "I thought about - honestly, I was thinkin' I might stick around the school instead, but I thought about having to fight my dad and my brother? Or Lin? And I can't even imagine it. You're really brave."

"I guess. That, or I'm just prepared to die for the cause."

"Close enough," Caspar says, his bravado ringing false.

"Ugh. Well. If it gets rid of the Crest system, it'll be worth it," Sylvain decides after a moment. "It's - whatever it takes so no one else has to grow up like me."

"You didn't turn out so bad -"

"Yeah, I did," Sylvain says. "Like, that's nice of you to say, but I really did."

"I don't know, being willing to fight for something you're not gonna get to experience yourself seems pretty good to me." Caspar grins at him, holding out a fist, and Sylvain dutifully bumps it with his own. He's not one to leave guy hanging on something so important as a fist bump. "Listen, everybody's gonna be glad you stuck around, I promise."

-

They are, is the thing; the Professor, especially, seems so grateful to see him and Lysithea and Leonie still fighting on the side of the Black Eagles; all the moreso since Hanneman and Manuela vanish sometime before the fight can begin.

Then Edelgard leads the assault on Garreg Mach and the Professor vanishes and they're all still there with nowhere else to turn and nothing to go back to.

Lysithea, at least, takes well to it, throwing herself just as hard into war efforts as she had her studies; Leonie is Leonie, industrious and hardworking if a little less sure.

Sylvain is a waste of space. Sure, he helps - he's great at logistics and supply chain management, handy in a fight, and knows how to lead a battalion - but he hangs around the capital and goes out drinking every night he's not on a campaign. That lasts for about a year.

Then Linhardt, of all people, pulls him aside, to ask, "Are you alright?"

"I'm good," Sylvain says. "Ready to die for the cause."

"No, you're not," Linhardt tells him with a yawn. "You'd ruin morale. Caspar would be so depressed."

"I don't think he knows the meaning of the word."

Linhardt's shoulders rise and fall in a loose approximation of a shrug, and he blinks slowly. "Still, it wouldn't be a very good solution. I thought you wanted a world without Crests."

"I do." Sylvain makes a face. "Are you going to tell me that if I want it I have to fight for it?"

"No." Linhardt looks at him thoughtfully for a while. "You could just go, if you wanted, but you keep sticking around."

Sylvain sighs deeply. "I really do believe in what we're fighting for. It's - the best way out of ... all of this. I mean, not just the war; I mean the whole course of history."

After a quiet moment, Linhardt nods. "And the nobility -"

"Don't get me fucking started, man."

Linhardt laughs. "Anyway, I'm not saying you need to fight. The Goddess knows I hate it, myself. But just - think about why you're here."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Sylvain says. "Thanks, Lin."

"Any time you want to talk --" Linhardt cuts himself off. "Well, any time I'm not sleeping or working, so not that often, actually. But when I'm awake and I'm not busy, we should talk more."  
Sylvain takes him up on it, sometimes. Linhardt and Caspar are good company. So's Bernie, and Dorothea. All of the Black Eagles are, really. It almost makes up for not knowing how anyone he grew up with is doing.

-

Five years go by. Sylvain settles into the rhythm of war - the way the changing seasons rearrange trade routes, the patterns of where and why groups of bandits arise, the availability of ore for smelting into weapons and tools, the patterns of plant growth and crop cycles in the Empire as opposed to Faerghus.

He keeps himself on his toes, training with Caspar and Ferdinand whenever he gets the chance, and throws himself into the work of keeping a massive army fed and moving.

They make him a general. Him, Sylvain Jose Gautier, whose very name is an entire province in Faerghus, an Imperial general. He works well with his fellow Black Eagles and the other latecomers.

Things don't seem so bad, somehow. The war is at a standstill and, occasionally, in meetings of just the Strike Force he can see Edelgard's facade slipping, but it's not obvious to the rest of the army or the empire at large yet. He thinks things could be okay, potentially, and if not - well. He's fought for something he believes in, even if that means opposing people he cares about and used to call friends.

He doesn't hear from anyone back home, but he doesn't try to write, either. (Part of him is always waiting to see if there's a letter from a particular friend of his, but there never is, and he knows better, anyway.)

-

Felix spends five years trying to hold Fraldarius and Gautier territories together. His father and the Margrave are constantly on the move, it seems like, and Felix keeps having to step in and handle matters - adjusting taxation rates, planning out the harvests, compensating for one farmer who had a bad year and ensuring food needs are met for civilians and troops alike.

Running so much territory is exhausting. He would rather be fighting. He gets out in the field as often as he can, but it doesn't protect him from the miserable slog of paperwork and negotiations.

Felix is so tired. All he wants is to be left alone - him and his bed or him and his sword; he'd take either option, at this point. Rest or fighting. The worst part is everything in between.

The Professor reappears, somehow, after five years missing, and Felix finally gets his wish: he's needed on the front lines more than he's needed at the keep.

At least he's kept his sword sharp.

-

They meet again on the battlefield.

-

Felix still has that dancer's grace about him, recognizable even from a distance. He's alone on the battlefield - Sylvain has a whole battalion with him, though they've taken heavy losses; he orders them off to help safeguard Bernadetta, who's struggling, so that he can confront Felix on his own.

He figures, if nothing else, his troops will save Bernadetta's life and she can finish that book she was working on. If he survives, he'll get to read it; if not, maybe someone else will, some day, and see how good she is at writing.

"Yo, Felix!" he calls, waiting until Felix has downed an Imperial soldier before distracting him. Felix's head jerks up, and even at a distance - closing as Sylvain rides toward him - he can see the horror in his expression.

"Don't make me fight you," Felix says. "You can still leave."

"Yeah, right." Sylvain chokes out something that might have passed for a laugh at another time. "Remember that promise we made as kids?"

"Of course I do." Felix sidesteps as Sylvain brings his horse nearer. He's wary; rightly so. 

Sylvain's horse huffs and throws its head, prancing a little with impatience. The muddy ground sucks at its hooves. In Enbarr, it's already warm, flowers starting to bloom; here, the snow has only barely melted and there are still patches of it hidden in the shade under some of the trees. "Looks like it's time to make good on it."

"You're going to die first," Felix tells him, the deep lines of his brow betraying the coldness in his voice.

Sylvain kicks his horse into action, and they charge. Felix manages to roll out of the way, and Sylvain rounds on him again.

The horse takes a little too long to turn, and Felix maneuvers just right - he catches the best in the neck with a sword, digging deep. A massive spray of arterial blood paints them both red, and the horse's scream turns into a gurgle as it falls into a kneel then collapses on its side, sinking into the muck.

Sylvain only just gets his feet out of the stirrups, crashing to the ground along with his mount. He manages to yank his leg out from under it without getting trapped, but he's disoriented and winded from the fall.

Felix hops over the dying animal, its legs still flailing in its final moments, and advances on Sylvain. Sylvain scrambles backwards, clutching at the muddy ground. He finally gets his feet under him again, starting to rise, when Felix kicks his legs out from under him.

For years now, Sylvain has thought he was ready to die. Looking up and seeing Felix's face staring down at him, instead of some anonymous soldier or even Dimitri himself, though, he realizes he's not ready at all. There was no way to prepare for this moment of indignity, lying in the mud, covered in his own horse's blood, listening to the animal's death rattles as his best friend stares down at him.

"I thought you'd put up more of a fight," Felix says, his voice utterly affectless. Sylvain moves to stand, and Felix puts a foot on his chest, pushing him down. Felix looks almost like he's sleepwalking - distant, confused, tired.

"Let me up and I can."

The sword he used to kill the horse is broken, so Felix has to draw another. Luckily he seems to have three of them; Sylvain might have called that overkill, back at the academy, but now the thought exhausts him too much to joke about. "I'm sorry."

"Please, please, just get this over with," Sylvain settles on saying, closing his eyes. His whole face feels itchy; his nose is running, eyes watering. He's killed so many people and still this is how it's going to end. He hopes Edelgard will get what she was after, hopes his sacrifice will mean something, anything, to anyone at all.

Felix is silent for a long time, still and unmoving. The sounds of the battle rage on around them but Sylvain barely hears them over the ringing in his ears and the roaring of his pulse and his idiot heart that hasn't gotten the message yet that he's about to die; it foolishly keeps beating, as if there's any reason to do so. Like a spell sustaining a dying man for a few moments even though no magic in the world could cure a wound so severe.

Not that Sylvain is physically wounded, not really, just bruised. Still. He's on the edge of a long, long night he won't have to wake up from.

"I don't want to die," Felix finally says.

"Okay?"

"Our promise."

Felix, the bastard, sits down, straddling Sylvain's stomach. He has his knees up, and leans forward, resting his arms on them as he looks at Sylvain.

Sylvain stares up at him. He can't tell if he's shaking from fear or cold or something else entirely.

"I don't want to die," Felix tells him, more fiercely this time.

"Okay? Okay, sure, fine," Sylvain says. "Break the fucking promise, fine, who gives a shit. Just get it over with."

"That's not - we said we would spend the rest of our lives together and share our deaths," Felix says, urgent now, his voice rough. He rocks forward onto his knees, bracing himself with one hand on the ground near Sylvain's shoulder, staring down into his eyes. "Sylvain. Do you want to live?"

"Yes? Maybe?"

"The boar can't be allowed to rule." There's a cold wind blowing from the east, and it ruffles Felix's bangs. Sylvain stares up at him. His eyes are dark, nearly bronze, in the fading golden light of late afternoon. They're so watery that looking into them reminds Sylvain of looking at dead leaves at the bottom of a clear, shallow pond. "He's not - that monster isn't -"

"Felix," Sylvain says, uselessly. The tears start falling, finally, and Felix is crying on him like when they were kids. There are people dying all around them. His horse has finally fallen silent, so at least its suffering is over. "Can I get up?"

"Sorry," Felix rasps, wiping at his eyes and then falling over himself to get off of Sylvain, crouching in the dirt. Sylvain gets to his knees and then sits back on his heels, his heavy armor sinking slightly into the mud.

He gets his arms around Felix, somehow, resting their foreheads together. "So are you - what. You gonna run?"

"No," Felix says. "No."

"Then what?"

"Just let me fight by your side," Felix says. He brings a hand up, rubbing a thumb along Sylvain's cheekbone. "We never got to. So just - for a little while."

Sylvain lowers his head, pressing his face into Felix's touch, desperate for the contact, even though Felix's gloves are cold from the Great Tree Moon chill that still hangs in the air even on the cusp of the new month. "Yeah, okay."

He hears footsteps near and is ready to grab his spear and fight, but then - 

For a dizzy moment, he feels himself get run through by a sword that's already slammed its way through Felix's light armor; then, vertigo, and the Professor standing there, staring at them.

"It's you two," she says.

"Hey, Byleth," Sylvain says, hooking his chin over Felix's shoulder. They're clinging way too tightly for him to play it off and act cool.

"Hey." Byleth narrows her eyes. "Felix, right?"

"Yes," Felix says, finally untangling himself from Sylvain and turning around. He gets to his feet, stance wide, ready to defend himself. He looks defiant as ever. 

"Thought you were about ready to kill us," Sylvain says, and Byleth just shrugs at him.

"I saw an enemy who was distracted." Her face is thoughtful as she appraises them both.

Sylvain tries to figure out a way to explain himself and fails. "He's not - he's gonna -"

"Let me join you." Felix speaks for himself, straightforward and blunt. "Not for your sake, but for my own, even though it's selfish."

Byleth rests her chin on one hand, eyeing Felix up and down, probably taking in the condition of his weapons and armor. "Will you fight with us?"

"Yes. My father is dead; the boar might as well be. What does it matter anymore which side I'm on?"

Byleth nods, at that, seemingly satisfied. "That's fine, then. If you give us a chance, we'll give you one, too."

-

Days later, they go to Fhirdiad. Felix was here just a few months ago, alongside Dimitri. The city is unchanged - there's less snow on the ground, the outskirts a bit muddy with the early spring melt, but the rooftops are all clear and dry thanks to the clear, cold light of the sun shining down. Edelgard calls for a surrender, which is rebuffed.

Rhea sets it all ablaze before the army can even breach the gates, and any regret Felix had about his choice is burned to ash. 

He's been to the city so many times throughout his childhood. He fights through streets he remembers - past the wreckage of shops where he and Sylvain got sweets or places he and Dimitri hid from the guards when they snuck out to play, past a house one of Ingrid's relatives lived in where they all ate dinner together one cold winter night. (He still can't believe the boar is gone; that he'll never talk to Dimitri again. That there's no chance for the monster to become a man again.)

The city burns because of the Archbishop's selfish, greedy spite.

Some of the soldiers Felix cuts down are probably people he once knew, but then, it was like that fighting for his homeland too. At least now he can keep Sylvain in his sights. He's sure Sylvain is having a similar experience - knowledge of the city tangled up in the weight of memories.

The night before this assault, he and Sylvain had helped draw maps and diagrams and plans, and the assault goes better because of it. Felix felt sick, thinking about an attack on a city he's so familiar with, but he'd pushed past it.

Now he doesn't know what he feels. Something in him has steadied but he can't tell if it's determination or numbness keeping his sword arm strong.

He's just glad when the Professor and Edelgard slay the monster that Rhea becomes. Her defeat means the end of the war means the end of the fighting means that finally they can put out the fires and set to rebuilding.

Even when he's exhausted himself, Felix refuses to sleep in the palace, and trudges his way through the city to find another place to lay his head. The rest of the Strike Force can stay there if they like, but Felix opts to hole up in an inn; there isn't much room, but the innkeeper was a friend of his father's, once, and though it feels cheap to take advantage of that he doesn't want to look any further for hospitality.

Sylvain trails after him like a stray dog in search of dinner, and Felix is too tired to shake him off. They sit down in the main room of the inn for a late dinner - thin rations, but still food - and drinks; the beer is watered down but better than nothing.

Felix is so tired. At least the war is over. That thought keeps echoing in his mind: at least it's over.

"Feels weird to be back here," Sylvain says as he's finishing his bowl of stew. He's been quiet all night, not that Felix has been any more forthcoming. The quiet has felt comfortable; he's reassured just knowing Sylvain is nearby.

Felix glances up at him, letting their eyes meet for a moment. "Did you ever expect to return?"

"If I'm honest, I didn't think about it." Sylvain scoffs under his breath, self-effacing as usual, looking away. "I knew it was coming, but I didn't really get it, somehow. You know I slept with one of the serving girls here once?"

"Disgusting," Felix says, reflexively but without rancor. He expects this kind of thing by now, but it doesn't mean he wants to hear it. Thinking about what Sylvain gets up to at night - it makes him so tired. It's not worth considering.

Sylvain shrugs. "Sorry. I'm just - there's a lot to think about. I guess I'm reminiscing. So. You think you're going to go home, after this?"

"Are you?"

That earns a snort. "No way. After five years? Of course not. I'm trying to get away from my past, not run right back to it." A pause. "Except you, I guess. You're always the exception, huh?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Neither do I. Never mind." Sylvain pushes his bowl aside and rests his head against the old knotted wood of the table. "Ugh."

Felix flicks the top of his head, then starts absently trying to straight Sylvain's hair. "Hey. Come on."

Sylvain looks on the verge of melting into the table with exhaustion. "Look, all I meant was - I don't want to go back home, but I don't ... I mean, if you do. I'll follow."

"Ah."

"Wherever you go. Anywhere," Sylvain says, mumbling now so Felix has to lean across the table to make out what he's saying. "I'm sorry I left you alone for so long."

"I survived it."

"C'mon," Sylvain says, lifting his head and pushing his chair back to stand up. "I'm tired. You said you got a room?"

"I got a room," Felix agrees, narrowing his eyes. "You're staying?"

"I'm staying with you."

Felix stares at him for a moment too long before remembering himself, then gets to his feet, stalking toward the indicated room without looking back over his shoulder to see if Sylvain follows.

He closes the door, locking it behind them, and starts to get undressed.

"Wow," Sylvain says, then stops himself. Felix shoots him a frustrated glance. "Sorry. I was going to make a joke but decided not to."

"In that case, I should thank you," Felix says. "I'm going to bed. I call the right side."

"Ugh, I wanted the right side."

Felix's expression gets as close to a grin as Sylvain's seen it in years. Not that they've seen each other much in that time. "I know." 

"Tricky bastard." Sylvain lets out a tired laugh. "I'm not gonna fight you for it. See? I've matured. I'm a grown man now. I'll sleep on the left if I must. Accept my lot in life. Look how generous I am."

Felix, on the edge of the bed, is pulling his boots off. Sylvain is staring at him, and Felix glowers at him in the hopes it might dissuade the attention. His face feels warm. Sylvain's attention is a heavy weight, but less uncomfortable than he thought it might be, which is somehow almost worse. 

He's undressed in front of people enough times because of shared tents while on the march; this shouldn't be weird. It's nothing Sylvain hasn't seen before. Still: his whole face flushes, and he can feel it in his ears and his neck and chest. He must resemble a tomato more than a man at this point and he's just grateful there aren't mirrors. "Do you ever shut up?"

"Mm." Sylvain groans, rubbing his face with his hands. "I was going to say 'make me,' but I think your interpretation of how to do that is different from most people's."

Felix looks at him for a very long time. "Do you want to find out?"

"Are you." Sylvain takes a half step forward, then teeters back on his heel. "You mean it?"

Felix feels his lips turn up involuntarily, still blushing. "Maybe. Come here and find out."

"Alright, okay," Sylvain says, squaring his shoulders and stepping right up to the bed.

Felix glances up at him. "I said come here."

Sylvain freezes, and Felix reaches up to get hold of his shirt and pull him down; Sylvain leans over him looking startled, staying very still, like a deer that's just caught the sound of hounds in the distance.

Felix says, "I guess it's not shutting you up if you're not talking, but - can I kiss you?"

"Yeah. Goddess. Macuil and Indech and -"

"Oh, there you are," Felix says, and tugs at Sylvain's shirt again. Their faces crash together, Felix's nose snubbed against Sylvain's before he turns his head. Felix has only kissed a handful of people, but all Sylvain's experience doesn't seem to be doing him much good - he's awkward and desparate, hands clutching hard at Felix's back.

Sylvain kisses like a rabid animal or someone who's drowning. Felix can't blame him. Still - he strokes his hair, whispers _shh_ against his neck and mouths at the fragile skin there. Sylvain is shaking.

Felix lies back, pulling Sylvain down on top of him; his legs hang off the edge of the bed but he doesn't try to adjust himself just yet, enjoying having Sylvain hovering over him looking lost and hopeful.

"Here," Felix says, lifting his head and kissing Sylvain again and again - the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose, his cheekbone. He wants to kiss Sylvain's whole stupid face, just glad that Sylvain is present and alive.

Except Sylvain is making a weird choking sound somewhere between weeping and a laugh. Felix sighs. He puts his arms around Sylvain and holds him, letting Sylvain press his face against his shoulder.

"Sorry," Sylvain says. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," Felix says. "I know. I know."

"Give me another chance?"

Felix closes his eyes. He breathes in deeply; Sylvain's scent is familiar and comforting. His weight atop Felix is new but still reassuring. "Don't I always?"

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @aflightybroad on twitter and @aflightybroad@goblin.camp on mastodon. please feel free to come yell at me about fe3h
> 
> comments are much loved, also


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